


Healer of Ashes

by Hiding_in_the_cookie_jar



Series: Priest!Spock [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: AU, M/M, Priest!Spock - Freeform, thelittlepalecat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-01-10 20:00:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiding_in_the_cookie_jar/pseuds/Hiding_in_the_cookie_jar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of an AU I saw on thelittledarkcat's tumblr.</p>
<p>A new disease is affecting the children of Vulcan. Starfleet sends Dr. McCoy to assist in finding a cure. There, he meets Spock, a priest, who does not speak much but uses all of his determination and knowledge of healing to help the children. McCoy finds interest in the vulcan and after weeks of being silent, they find a starting point of a relationship. They become friends as they begin to open up to each other and fall in love as a they come closer to finding a cure.</p>
<p>Months of research and experiments finally results in a treatment. The childrens' health is returning but Spock falls ill soon after. McCoy returns to Earth to find increased medication for the developing disease. He promises Spock he will be back and they will be together again soon. But returning to his priest is harder than he imagined when Vulcan sends out a distress call. Nero is planning on destroying Vulcan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of thelittledarkcat's tumblr and drawings. They're so cute I just couldn't resist writing a fanfiction for it.
> 
> Basically, this is immediately after Vulcan was destroyed and the italics are months before that.

> **So perhaps thelittledarkcat's post will give anyone a better understanding of what this is about before you read this.[It's right here.](http://thelittledarkcat.tumblr.com/post/74184095543/priest-spock-and-mccoy-au-sketches-mccoy-meets#notes-container) And the tag with the rest of her Priest!Spock AU is [here. ](http://thelittledarkcat.tumblr.com/tagged/priest%21Spock)**

* * *

_"I'll be back," McCoy said, tying the red ribbon loosely on Spock's wrist._

_Spock watched him with glassy eyes. He raised his arm, examining the bow with furrowed eyebrows. McCoy perched on the edge of Spock's sick bed, closing his hands over Spock's small and thin one._

_"I promise."_

The energizer room came into focus slowly through the swirl of lights. Jim ran into the room, followed by a small medical team, but stopped suddenly when he caught sight of Spock.

The young priest leaned against McCoy, still sick from the illness that left him bedridden only a month ago. His arm stretched out in front of him where he reached out to his parents as they fell with the crumbling ground of their planet. McCoy stared straight ahead. Sarek and Amanda had stood there seconds before, gripping each other's hands and looking nowhere else but each other's eyes in a last confession of emotion and love. McCoy's eyes trailed from the empty space to Spock's frail hand - shaking violently - and up his wrist where he still wore the ribbon.

"I'm here," he whispered, clutching the small man in his arms.

A small whimper was muffled in McCoy's uniform. He placed his hand on Spock's head, burying his fingers in the long, silky hair. The tremors increased steadily as the medical team began examining him, careful not to touch him.

"He's in shock," McCoy said to them, stopping their scanners. "And still pretty damn sick. I'll get him down to sickbay and treat him on my own."

The team escorted the other Vulcans out of the room and left Spock in McCoy's arms. Jim followed all of them to get checked out himself at McCoy's order. Chekov sat at the console, staring guiltily down at the screen.

"I have to take you down to sickbay." McCoy pressed his forehead to the top of Spock's head. "I'll stay with you, though. Every second - I'll be right next to you, darling."

McCoy began taking small steps off the transporter pad and out into the corridors, gently urging Spock along and praising him when they made it into the hall.

Sickbay was crowded and noisy. Spock looked around with his uncomprehending eyes, watching the doctors and nurses attend to the surviving Vulcans. He was nudged by McCoy and began walking towards the back of sickbay. McCoy led him to a bed that had been prepared specifically for him, drawing the curtain before he got Spock settled.

"We should get you out of these robes and cleaned up."

Spock's face was dirty and his robes had really seen better days. McCoy wiped his cheek with his thumb, smearing the dirt and sand around. He imagined what he himself looked like after running around on the planet, gathering up vulcans but decided not to bother with it until he was willing to have Spock under someone elses observation for a few minutes.

McCoy wiped Spock's face gently with a damp cloth provided by a nurse. Spock allowed him to cup his face and place a kiss to his forehead. He leaned into the touch, reaching out and placing his hands over McCoy's. They lost track of time as they stayed in that position. When McCoy pulled away, Spock protested, whimpering slightly. McCoy shushed him and turned to the medical gown left on the cart that was filled with medication and medical scanners. Slowly and with talented hands trained to be graceful and steady, he pulled Spock's robes off, removed the traditional hair decorations that shimmered under the lights, and his tiny, flat shoes. Spock shivered even harder once his layers had been replaced by a thin, generic gown.

"Lay down," McCoy instructed, folding the last of the clothes.

He tucked the covers up to his waist, leaving his arms exposed. Then, he picked up Spock's hand and with one tug, the bow on his wrist slipped undone. McCoy rubbed the soft material between his fingers, remembering the concern and guilt twisting in his stomach the day he had to leave Vulcan to find medication specifically for Spock's physiology. His only worry then was returning to Spock's side before he got worse.

How had things changed so much in a few months?

The doctor grabbed a hypo, already filled with the much-needed medication, and pressed it into Spock's arm.

"You'll start to feel better soon," he said, pulling the covers up to Spock's chin.  _I hope_ , he added to himself.

The priest looked up at him with those wide, glassy eyes, his hand peeking out from the blanket and finding his doctor's. McCoy couldn't tell if it was from the fever or the shock that Spock appeared to be somewhere else far away. He sighed and began administering more medication with his free hand, allowing his thoughts to wander as Spock's eyes closed.

* * *

_Spock was a young - and small - priest. He only reached McCoy's chin and the doctor secretly thought it was endearing. A species that was normally so tall and he was working beside one that needed help reaching the top shelf in the lab. McCoy would hide a smirk and reach up, effortlessly grabbing the requested glass or container._

_His stature fit his personality well as he was shy and didn't speak much at first. After knowing each other for weeks since McCoy had been assigned to help with the medical crisis, he had only learned that Spock was not skilled enough in healing to find a cure for the dozens of children who had become sick from a new virus and that he served the Goddess of Peace with a handful of other priests living in the isolated village outside ShiKhar. He also knew that Spock had a mouth and wits and he was not afraid of putting them together._

_McCoy was always busy running tests and examining the bacteria cultures. Spock researched the disease furiously while trying his best to provide comfort to the children who had been admitted to the small hospital. He took great care of them when they were not being looked after by the nurses. He read to them, placed cold rags on their foreheads to bring down their fevers, and pray to his Goddess for their well being and safety. It was obvious early on how desperate he was to help and find a cure. McCoy saw him spend a good portion of his time during the day with them and staying up late working on treatments. He told him that he was an idiot for overworking himself but Spock only listed the differences between the limitations of humans and vulcans._

_It was early one morning and McCoy was in the lab alone, waiting for Spock to finish his morning prayers. When the vulcan walked in late, his jaw clenched and hands balled into fists, McCoy didn't hesitate in asking what was wrong._

_"More children are falling ill," he said quietly. "They are not being admitted to the hospital due to limited room."_

_McCoy crossed his arms over his chest and a firm scowl was set on his face. The dozens of children had taken up most of the room in the hospital. It was a small building to begin with, too. Vulcans typically did not seek medical attention in an office like humans. All healers made house calls and only serious cases were treated in small, local hospitals. It was dumb, McCoy thought. They would be screwed in an epidemic - which is what it felt like they were facing._

_"Well, what's going to happen to them?" McCoy asked._

_"They will be treated from their homes."_

_"But what if there's an emergency?"_

_"Then the hospital must make room. Perhaps less severe cases will be sent home with a nurse. If need be the children will be taken to another city. However, I doubt there will be any emergencies just yet." Spock sat down at his part of the lab. "You must see to the children later tonight. We have assigned healers to visit the homes after shifts end to examine the children."_

_McCoy wrinkled his nose. He didn't like house calls - especially those in the evening when the suns were setting on Vulcan and there was no moon to provide a little natural light. It was eerie._

_"Are you going to come?" he asked._

_Spock was silent for a moment. "I cannot. I must attend to my duties here."_

_McCoy did not question it further. It would probably conflict with his priest duties and no matter how much he enjoyed teasing Spock for basically everything, he did actually take time to learn about his culture and religion and knew not to interrogate him when he thought Spock was going to privately pray or worship his Goddess._

_At the end of the day, while Spock was finishing attending to the tiny patients, McCoy and a few healers left for the houses of the ill children._

_The first couple patients McCoy saw to were young and their parents were appreciative of his services. He did what he could to make the children comfortable and offered to come back at any time if he was needed. The third and last house he visited, he was greeted quite harshly and the little girl's parents stood behind him throughout the whole examination, judging him._

_"We send back a half-breed and receive a human in return," the Vulcan male said to his wife, thinking McCoy could not hear while he examined their daughter._

_"Excuse me?" McCoy grumbled, taking his eyes off the sleeping girl and turning to the couple._

_"We were merely discussing the staff that have seen to our_ vulcan _daughter."_

 _McCoy glared at the way he said it. Their_ vulcan _daughter - obviously superior to the human at the age of 8._

_"And what's wrong with the staff?" McCoy asked. "Who's been here before?"_

_"Doctor, surely you must agree that it would be most logical to send a full vulcan healer to a full vulcan's aid. I fail to see how it would be beneficial any other way. Today our daughter has been attended to by a half-vulcan and you - a human."_

_"A priest from the hospital visited this morning. He was inferior," the vulcan woman said. "As a half-breed he is less intelligent and his knowledge of medicine is inadequate to treat this disease."_

_McCoy stared at her for a moment, trying to fill in the missing pieces. He only knew of one priest that worked at the hospital._

_"Spock." he said finally. "You mean Priest Spock?"_

Spock's only half-vulcan? _he thought._

_"Yes," she replied._

_"He's the… 'half breed' you sent back?" McCoy asked, reluctant to say the slur as it stuck in throat and left a poor taste in his mouth._

_"Of course."_

_"Why?" he demanded, not risking to raise his voice._

_"Have we not explained well enough? We need someone who meets the standards of a full vulcan."_

_"_ What? _He's a healer with access to some of the most advanced medicine and technology. You're daughter is dying but you still thought it was a good idea to turn down the first help you could get? I'm not sure what's more disgusting the fact that you didn't do what you could for your own child or that you're too goddamn proud to accept help from someone different than you… Dammit! He offered you his help and you refused it because of his background!"_

_"We refused due to -"_

_"No, you turned him away because you're bigoted. I can't believe this." McCoy quickly rose to his feet, his chair tipping back on its back legs and nearly crashing to the floor. "Keep a close eye on your daughter. I'll leave you something for her fever - give her two doses a day - and if it raises above 36 degrees get her to the hospital. Make sure she drinks plenty of fluids, too. And if you're going to look for a full vulcan healer - good luck. They know only as much as we do."_

_McCoy gathered his supplies, shoving his scanners into his bag and only refrained from slamming a full hypo with additional doses on the nightstand to not wake the little girl up. He didn't trust himself to stay any longer in that damned house. His mother always did say he had a short temper and while he felt his anger was justified in this case, he heeded her warnings from years ago and left before there was any damage._

_By the time he made it back to the hospital, the children were sleeping and Spock was continuing experiments in the lab. He had calmed down considerably in the night air but the fading frustration was replaced with a strong sick feeling as soon as he saw the little priest._

_"Here's some samples," McCoy mumbled, pulling the labelled vials and petri dishes out from his bag and onto the table. "Did the others come back yet?"_

_"Yes," Spock answered, not bringing his face up from the microscope. "They returned 10.6 minutes ago."_

_McCoy nodded, leaning against the table. He folded his arms over his chest and cleared his throat quietly._

_"Is there something wrong?" Spock asked._

_"What? No." McCoy raked a hand through his hair, unsure how - or even if - he should approach the subject. "But uh… When I was visiting one of the kids, her parents had some interesting opinions."_

_"About anything in particular?"_

_McCoy shifted his weight to his left foot. "About the staff that were sent on house calls."_

_Spock sighed. He looked up to McCoy and raised an eyebrow._

_"Doctor, I did not believe you were in a debate of current sub-quantum theories. I had assumed they were not pleased with our services. If you would cease being vague and get to the point, I will be gratified."_

_"They thought you weren't good enough to be a healer because you're half-vulcan," McCoy blurted, his words rushing forward and not having time to register in his mind._

_Spock's eyes darted to the floor. "Who was the family?"_

_"The girls parents' were Stonn and T'Pan or something. I'm not sure how to pronounce their names."_

_"I see," Spock said, biting his bottom lip for a second before focusing on the table behind McCoy. "Doctor, will you please hand me my bag?"_

_McCoy turned around, finding a small bag similar to a hobo bag on Earth, adorned in Vulcan decorations. It matched Spock's purple ornamental robes, he observed before handing it to Spock._

_"It is getting late, is it not?" Spock said, rummaging through his bag and pulling out a ribbon. "I thought you would be returning home by now."_

_"I want to talk to you about this," McCoy snapped._

_"There is nothing to discuss," he said, a bit harsher than normal. He began removing the strands of ornaments from his hair, placing them in a pocket inside his bag._

_"Really? Because you seem to be getting pretty upset about it."_

_Spock rested his hands in his lap, sighing in defeat. "Speak," he ordered._

_"What do they have against you? What ever happened to IDIC?"_

_"It still exists, doctor. With a human mother and vulcan father, I have never faced systematic oppression. They had a preference for a more skilled healer."_

_"They wanted anyone other than you. What happened this morning? When did they decide to send you back?"_

_Spock was silent. Without the ornaments laced around his hair and the front locks being clasped at the end, his hair cascaded freely down his back and over his shoulders. When he looked to McCoy, it swayed ever so slightly to rest in a new, natural position. McCoy watched it frame his face, lightly brushing against his cheeks and neck._

_"I was not even permitted to enter the house," he began quietly. "I expressed my confusion. They needed a healer for their child experiencing the symptoms of this disease and I am a healer who has done extensive research."_

_McCoy took a seat next to Spock. "Their logic is flawed."_

_"Yes. It has been for many years."_

_"What do you mean by that?"_

_"I have known Stonn since childhood."_

_"So he bullied you?"_

_"I believe that is the unnecessary title you humans have given it."_

_"What do you call it?"_

_"Harassment and abuse."_

_McCoy nodded. "Tell me about it."_

_Spock raised an eyebrow._

_"I'm a doctor, I'm trained in empathy. Besides, we've been working alongside each other long enough now that I think we should get to know each other."_

_"I do not find that wise," Spock mumbled._

_Spock looked down at the table where the ribbon laid. He ran his fingers through his hair and gathered it in a fist at the crown of his head. His hair no longer met his lower back but it would still be too long for the hot Vulcan sun during the day, McCoy thought, then wondered why he had never seen Spock with his hair up before. It was a desert planet and no matter how well adapted they were, thick black hair had to be a nuisance._

_"Need help?" McCoy grabbed the ribbon before Spock could reach it. "I used to do my little girl's hair back home."_

_McCoy held the ribbon at each end and wrapped it around the base of the ponytail a few times before tying it off. Spock inspected it with his fingers, feeling the bumps and loose hair escaping the knot._

_"It will do," he said. "I only need it away from my eyes and the samples."_

_"Well, I never said I did her hair well. At least you weren't squirming around and squealing if I tugged your hair a bit too hard. She complained about my high ponytails but I was good at braids. Simple braids I could do. The thing about being a part-time single father to a girl is that you learn how to do those things but never as well as a full time single father."_

_McCoy smiled at the memories of getting her ready for school when she was younger._

_"I assume you and her mother have separated?" Spock said, uncertain how to handle the sentiment of the topic._

_"Yep." He turned to Spock and eyed him critically. "Let me make you a deal, I tell you one personal thing, you tell me one. We'll take it slow and if you start to get uncomfortable, just tell me. Sound good?"_

_Spock was hesitant to answer "Yes." He focused on the table next to McCoy, lowering his head ever so slightly._

_"When I was in school, the other students attempted to elicit an emotional response from me by means of constant insults and occasional physical altercations. They were successful precisely 39% of the time."_

_"Why did they do that?" McCoy asked._

_"You have not yet shared a personal admittance."_

_McCoy leaned back in his chair. "I told you a few things, you still have to catch up."_

_"You had not yet established the rules. The story about your daughter should not be valid."_

_"Fine." McCoy thought for a moment._

_"I have aviophobia," he said finally. "The fear of dying in something that flies. I hate space and can't stand going in starships and shuttles. The only reason why I joined Starfleet was because I lost the last custody battle and barely got to see my daughter, Joanna, anymore."_

_"Their goal was to humiliate me…"_

_They continued on long into the night, learning each other's failures and motives, finally settling into the beginning of a friendship._

* * *

"How is he?" Jim asked, peaking in the curtain.

McCoy sat by Spock's side, one hand being clutched on to and the other updating medical files on a PADD resting on his lap. He looked up at his friend and sighed.

"Not much better. I gave him a sedative and medication."

"Is it helping?"

"Slightly. He's sleeping at least…" McCoy shook his head. "He needs me with him, Jim. When Vulcan was destroyed and all those people died, his mental bonds broke so abruptly it threw him in telepathic shock. I'm an anchor for him right now."

"So what does this mean?" Jim asked, stepping through the curtains. "What's going to happen if he's in telepathic shock?"

"He's not going to be able to do a lot without help for a while. Not until the bonds heal. Vulcans rely on their telepathy for too much. It controls too much of their minds and they just can't function without it.

"The others aren't much better, either, but they had more bonds than Spock. With their families, they had less dependency on them. It was all distributed across several people so when the bonds broke, they were affected a little bit in each area. Spock had relied heavily on his paternal bonds. It was like half his telepathy being cut off all at once with each parent.

"And since vulcans are touch telepaths, Spock can feel my presence in his mind when he holds my hand. I don't know if it's helping but judging from how calm he is, it's doing something."

Jim nodded. He looked down at the priest. His hair was messy from sleep and he was sweating slightly from the fever. He gripped McCoy's hand tightly, like it was his lifeline (though, by the way McCoy explained it, it sort of was), and his entire body trembled under a pile of blankets. Jim felt his heart sink for his friend. He had heard so much about the priest - how in love he was with the mysterious little Vulcan - and the first time he got to meet Spock was after his entire planet was destroyed and he was unresponsive.

"Jim?" McCoy said softly, drawing Jim's attention to the uneasy doctor. "What's happening out there?"

"I have a plan," he began slowly, carefully saying each word. "I'm beaming onto the  _Narada_  and finding Pike."

"Jim-"

"Uhura is coming with me. She'll ignite the red matter while I'm with Pike. Nero's ship will be destroyed in a black hole with him and his crew."

"What'll happen to you three, though?"

"We'll be beamed back aboard in time. Don't worry." Jim smiled but lowered his head. He shifted his weight around before looking back up.

"You don't sound so sure," McCoy said.

Jim put his hand on McCoy's arm, squeezing it tightly. "Come on, I have the best luck. I didn't cheat my way through the Kobayashi Maru just to die on my first mission with two other officers. We'll be fine."

"You better be." McCoy reached up and placed his hand over Jim's. "Don't be an idiot."

"Don't ask for the impossible." The corner of Jim's mouth pulled up. "Have a medical team ready. We don't know what shape Pike will be in."

McCoy nodded, patting Jim's hand.

"See you later, Bones."

"See you later, kid. Tell Uhura to keep a close eye on you. God knows you need a babysitter everywhere you go."

"You got it."

They smiled at each other, their eyes expressing the sorrow and fear they refused to share with words. Jim swallowed thickly and turned around, slipping through the curtains and out of sickbay.

McCoy closed his eyes in a poor attempt to hold back his tears. He was being an idiot. Jim's plans never failed. If anyone could succeed in a dumb, far-fetched plan - it was him.

Looking at Spock, who grimaced in his sleep at McCoy's negative thoughts, he forced himself to push away the scenarios where Jim would be swallowed in the black hole and his body wouldn't even make it back for a funeral. It wasn't easy, as he was a natural pessimist but he would force nothing but positive thoughts for Spock's sake.

Jim would come back, Uhura would be smiling with victory, and Pike could easily be patched up. They would make it back safe and sound and Nero would be dead - the least of what the bastard deserved.


	2. Chapter 2

McCoy rubbed his thumb over Spock’s fingers. They were cold and bony and pale. McCoy remembered holding them when they spent days in vulcan’s suns instead of the cold, sterile lab.

They were warm laced with his and tightened ever so slightly as they sat in comfortable silence, connected beyond physical limits. Little feelings swept through a natural link in little gusts, swirling around in the other’s mind until it faded out. Whenever they touched, they were thrown into each other’s minds. A constant presence of their beings eagerly connecting after years of being alone.

Now, McCoy lowered his head, pressing a soft kiss to Spock’s knuckles. He felt nothing.

“I’m right here with you, darling,” he whispered, laying his head on the mattress.

He watched Spock, focusing on his deep breathing and the occasional movement. There was little noise coming from sickbay. All the other vulcans had been sedated as well and the only sound was the biosensor monitoring the abnormal vitals of his priest.

At one point, McCoy wasn't quite sure when, he fell asleep. It was a dreamless slumber and felt as though he had only just closed his eyes but when he woke, there were shouts and familiar voices giving orders.   
  
McCoy ran out from behind the curtain, momentarily forgetting about Spock’s fragility when he saw Jim. His face was a little battered but he wore a triumphant grin with an arm wrapped protectively around Uhura.

“Hey Bones.”

They were both forced into a tight hug before the doctor could compose himself.

“You’re both idiots for scaring me like that.”

“But we’re back,” Uhura said, grinning.   
  
"We did it," Jim said, his voice quiet and cracking. "Pike's safe... and pretty pissed."  
  
"Well, I think the first part's most important," McCoy said, a relieved smile tugging his lips up. "I'll look you all over. Where is Pike?"  
  
Jim began to point in the general direction where Pike had been taken when a heart-wrenching scream tore its way through the room. It was followed by moans just a tad quieter but still effectively shattering McCoy's heart once more. They all stared at Spock’s concealed bed, recovering from the icy shock.  
  
McCoy wrenched the curtains open. Immediately, he felt his blood run cold. Spock looked half-possessed; his face was pained and he thrashed in his bed, tearing at the bedclothes that tangled with his body. He threw his head back as another scream raised from his throat.

McCoy grabbed his arms, hoping to keep him from hurting himself and that the physical contact would do something. Spock continued to jerk away, kicking and punching the mattress as hard as he could. Despite his little frame, Spock was strong and McCoy was jarred around before he could climb on the bed and tuck Spock against his chest.  
  
"It's just a dream," he said over the whimpering and loud biosensors alerting them of the unstable vitals. "Wake up, darling, I got you."  
  
Spock screamed weakly. He grabbed at McCoy’s tunic, scratching him through the fabric, and gripped it in tight handfuls.

“Spock!” McCoy shouted, shaking him slightly. “Wake up!”

The vulcan’s eyes snapped open with a final scream dying on his lips. He desperately gasped for air, his glassy eyes darting around the room in search of something he could understand. McCoy wiped his bangs from his drenched, burning forehead, shushing him.

Spock’s mouth tried to form words. It opened and quivered but he could make no sound. His eyes fluttered close and his brow knitted together in pain. He tried to bring a shaky hand to his mouth but he let it fall back to his side as he curled forward.

McCoy, anticipating what was about to happen, grabbed as much hair as he could. Spock lurched forward, heaving whatever his last and final meal on Vulcan was into their laps. McCoy whispered to him, trying to keep him from toppling over into the bile pooling onto the bed.

Coughing pathetically and clutching his stomach, Spock leaned against strong, broad shoulders, becoming limp. McCoy ignored the vomit soaking through his pants and the smell wafting up. He let go of Spock’s hair and used his sleeve to wipe his mouth.

Jim and Uhura, not noticed by the oblivious couple, shuffled up to the bed. Their steps were small and hesitant but never stopping until they could clearly see the doctor sobbing into his broken vulcan’s hair.

 

* * *

_“What’s so horrible about the forge?”_

_Spock raised an eyebrow over his cup of tea. He lowered the cup to the science/makeshift-lunch table and put his hands in his lap with all the authority of a Starfleet Admiral._

_“Would you like to know about the dangerous creatures or the weather conditions?”_

_McCoy furrowed his eyebrows. “It’s really that bad?”_

_“If a le-mayta does not attack you than a sandstorm will. Or perhaps you will freeze at night when the temperature drops suddenly and you are ill-prepared with casual, civilian robes.”_

_“You make it sound like a death trap.”_

_“The forge is no place for a human.”_

_“_ Human _? Oh. I suppose vulcans can go up there no problem?”_

_“Correct. Vulcan youth are expected to survive 10 days on the forge alone without weapons, food, or water.”_

_McCoy leaned forward. “You guys send children out to the desert for over a week? The hell is wrong with you?”_

_“It is a rite of passage into maturity called kahs-wan.”_

_“What if they don’t make it the 10 days?”_

_Spock lowered his gaze to avoid McCoy’s widening eyes and paling face._

_“Oh God,” McCoy groaned. “How old are they when do it?”_

_“Typically seven years of age.”_

_McCoy buried his face in his hands. Spock raised an eyebrow and reached for his tea._

_“If it eases your nerves, most children pass and safely return to their homes.”_

_“_ Most _?” McCoy looked up. “How is that supposed to make me feel better?”_

_“Perhaps I should reword my statement. It is rare for children to die during their kahs-wan.”_

_“That’s doesn’t help either.”_

_“Doctor, there has not been a death on the forge for decades. The last tragedy occurred years before my birth - even before my father had reached full adulthood. It is not as challenging as you believe.”_

_“Are you lying to me?”_

_“Vulcans do not lie. Besides, we are stronger than you believe. We can easily defend ourselves against the conditions.”_

_“And I’m sure a weak human like me would be screwed?”_

_Spock stared at him blankly, mouthing the word in the unfamiliar context. “‘Screwed?’ I do not understand how you would resemble such an action.”_

_McCoy fought back a smile at how lost Spock looked. Such a bright, young vulcan and he couldn’t even pick up on some simple human slang._

_“No, Spock, it’s not literal. I mean I would get into trouble.”_

_“Then yes.” Spock nodded in understanding. “Unless, of course, you were accompanied by a vulcan.”_

_“Do you know of a vulcan who would accompany me?”_

_“If you are so desperate to go, I would.”_

_“Good. Maybe we could make an evening out of it. Get dinner, do whatever vulcans do for fun.”_

_Spock opened his mouth to retort - with some smart comment, McCoy knew - but then he seemingly forgot how to form sentences and closed his mouth._

_“You alright?” McCoy asked, a smirk playing on his lips._

_Spock’s eyes darted to the table before returning to the other’s smug face. “Doctor, are you asking to court me?”_

_“You’re too clever for me.” McCoy rolled his eyes. “Is that a yes? Tonight, you can protect me from all those lay… whatevers.”_

_“Le-matyas,” Spock corrected under his breath._

_“And I’ll make sure to dress for the weather. What do you say?”_

_Spock fumbled with his words for a moment. “It must be after my evening prayers.”_

_“Of course.”_

_“And you do understand that as a priest I must remain celibate. I know that humans tend to -”_

_“Spock!” McCoy groaned. “It’s one date. We’ll work through all those details later.”_

_McCoy remembered the light blush that colored Spock’s cheeks and the small smile he wore while waiting for his priest to finish his evening duties._

* * *

 

Jim, after contacting Starfleet Command and taking a well-deserved nap, wandered through the ship. The adrenaline of the mission was long gone and replaced by a sinking feeling in his gut.

An entire planet was gone. Millions of people were dead. It was nothing like the scenarios he was given at the Academy for command training. They always shook Jim up but at the end of the class, none of it had really happened and no one had actually died. But there was no restart button this time. All those vulcans weren’t overdramatic students who volunteered to pretend to die when Jim failed. The planet wouldn’t be back the next time he had another test. There were no second chances.

The reality of it finally hit him and he couldn’t help choking up as he walked down the corridors.

Jim stepped through sickbay’s doors, half-aware of what he was doing. He stopped a nurse and asked for Pike - who, unfortunately, was just going into surgery. She promised to tell him when he came out, and walked away without acknowledging his thanks. The medical crew was too busy taking care of the vulcans. They didn’t have time for Jim, the acting Captain who was definitely getting promoted and given medals as soon as they got back to the Academy.

The thought of being rewarded for what happened made him feel sick. He was no hero. Heros wouldn’t let things get so out of hand.

Jim slowly parted the curtains around Spock’s bed. The little vulcan was wrapped in McCoy’s arms and rested against his chest. A sedative and a sponge bath did wonders for calming Spock down but he still clung to McCoy in his sleep. One hand was curled around the blue tunic, the other tucked under McCoy’s back. Jim kept an eye on the steady breathing and tense expression.

“Can I come in?” he whispered.

McCoy nodded, gesturing to the chair he had sat in hours before. Jim noticed he had heavy bags under his eyes, accentuated by dark rings. The doctor had to have been desperate for sleep.

Jim took the seat, watching McCoy try to reposition himself without disturbing Spock.

“How’s he doing?” he asked.

“His fever’s not going down - probably because of his mental distress. He woke up for a little bit but he didn’t quite know where he was.”

“Did you sedate him?”

McCoy shook his head. “I didn’t think he would be able to handle anymore. He’s sensitive to normal medications to begin with. I’m not sure what’ll happen and he doesn’t need to be more uncomfortable than he already is.”

McCoy pulled the blankets farther up Spock’s back. He brushed his fingers over his cheeks, hollow and flushed from illness, before bringing his hand up to Spock’s forehead.

“Is there anything I can do?” Jim asked.

“Not right now… Later, when he wakes up, I want to get him in my quarters. I’ll need help getting him there.”

Jim shifted in his chair. “Is that really a good idea?”

McCoy’s head jerked up and Jim immediately regretted his words.

“I’m sorry,  _Doctor_  Kirk, I didn’t think to consult you on it.” McCoy glared at him, holding Spock just a bit tighter.

“Bones, I -”

“It’s obvious you know what’s best for my boyfriend who just lost his home and family. I should have come to you straight away -  _before_  you decided to risk your life on the  _Narada_ like an idiot. You’re someone he can really depend on to be there for him when he has panic attacks.”

“Bones! Lower your voice!”

“I’ve spent months with him, Jim, and on Vulcan. I’m his doctor. If I think he can to be out of sickbay, then I’m pretty damn sure he can. Furthermore, as CMO, I make all final medical decisions without the need of the commanding officer’s permission. If you don’t think I should keep Spock somewhere more homey and away from all the noise and free-range emotion than you can keep it yourself.”

“You’re scaring him!”

McCoy closed his mouth and took a deep breath. He looked down, feeling his stomach twist in a knot. Spock trembled, his breathing boarding on hyperventilating. McCoy’s shoulders drooped and he hung his head.

“Hey, darling,” he whispered, sitting up and pulling Spock into his lap. “I’m sorry.”

“Len,” Spock muttered, his voice weak and cracking.

He buried his head into McCoy’s neck, hiding from the world he wanted to deny.

“I’m so sorry,” McCoy cooed. “I’ll keep my temper next time.”

McCoy held him as though he was an infant. He patted his back and rocked him back and forth at a slow, even pace. Whimpers were muffled in his neck and he could begin to feel tears slip down his collar.

“I got you, darling.”

Jim hovered by the bed, his hands ready to grab anything and his legs ready to pivot him out through the curtain. McCoy looked up and he readied himself for making a quick run. He lifted himself on the balls on his feet and raised expectant eyebrows but McCoy only stared at him.

“Do you need anything?” he prompted.

“I don’t know what to do,” McCoy admitted, his voice small and tired eyes pleading.

“What do you mean?”

“I just don’t…” He grabbed a handful of his priest’s hair, pressing his forehead against the crown of Spock’s head. “I don’t know how to handle this.”

Jim slumped, feeling the final weight of the universe crushing his chest. He collapsed on the edge of the crowded bed, his exhausted legs no longer able to support his weary body.

“I don’t either,” he said, quiet and defeated. “Bones, these things can’t be handled with protocol. You’ve never been trained to handle a vulcan who’s in telepathic shock and in love with you. No one’s ever written a book titled ‘How to Deal With Everything Once It’s All Gone to Shit’ with instructions on what to do after a planet’s been destroyed and you’re taking care of a sickly alien. These things just don’t happen… These things aren’t supposed to happen. Everyone’s unprepared.

“I’m a  _Captain_  right now.” Jim laughed bitterly. “I don’t know how to be a fucking Captain! I’ve never had time for proper training. I just took tests and studied. I thought it was going to be easy and let myself get cocky but it’s surreal when I’m giving orders to 400 people. This is all so fucked up.”

McCoy turned his head towards Jim. “How do we always get in this much trouble?”

“We’re just that lucky.”

Jim shared a drained look with McCoy before smirking.

“At least the three of us are too stubborn to die.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I played around with point a view a bit in the last part in this chapter and the contrast between light-hearted past and tragic present. Both were meant to emphasize Spock's misery but it may have not worked.

_Spock stretched his arms above his head as far as they could go. With a huff of irritation he bounced on his toes, giving him a second of useless elevation._

_“Having trouble?”_

_Spock dropped his arms to his side and turned around. He looked McCoy, who was leaning casually against the doorframe, straight in the eyes with his head held high._

_“I am in no need of assistance.”_

_McCoy smirked. “Alright. Hand me some towels while you’re rooting around up there. Kid in room 19 made a mess with her breakfast.”_

_Spock raised his chin and squared his shoulders. “That is not possible.”_

_“Why not?”_

_McCoy pushed off from the wall when Spock did not respond. He sauntered over the open cabinet and grabbed a stack of towels with no effort. Tucking them under his arms, he grabbed a bottle of antiseptic and handed it to Spock._

_“Need this?”_

_“Thank you.”_

_McCoy put a hand on his priest’s head. “We should get a stool for you. I’m not going to be here all the time to help you.”_

_“That would be both unappreciated and unnecessary. I only accepted your help because my mother taught me it is rude to turn away assistance when it offered with sincerity.”_

_“Your mother sounds like a wonderful woman with unlimited patience.”_

_Spock toyed with the bottle. “Unlimited is not the word I would use.”_

_“Well, you can only ask for so much for you.”_

_“I suppose after last night I cannot ‘ask’ for anything more,” Spock said, walking out into the hall._

_McCoy followed. “What happened?”_

_“I may have been irritating last night”._

* * *

Getting Spock to McCoy’s quarters the next evening had been a challenge. The priest shivered in McCoy’s arms, clutching the front of his uniform and burying his face in his neck like he could black out the world. Jim hovered, carrying Spock’s robes and medicine, asking a continuous string of questions that McCoy really did not want to answer. He only wanted to focus on getting Spock settled somewhere.

Once Spock was cocooned in a bundle of blankets on the bed, McCoy turned up the heat until it was barely tolerable for him.

"Does he really need it to be so hot?" Jim asked.

"You don't know much about Vulcan, do you?"

"I know that it's... _was_ hot but really? How can you stand this?"

"I was there long enough. I adapted. I would put the temperature lower if he still wasn't so sick." McCoy brushed his hand through Spock's hair. He whined and leaned into the touch. "Right now he needs to be comfortable. That's going to be the best thing for him right now."

Jim tugged at his collar. "Do you need anything else?"

McCoy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _He's just trying to be helpful,_ he told himself, glancing at Jim who stared wide-eyed and frightened. _But it's getting to be damn annoying._

"No," McCoy said curtly. "I have everything in here."

"Ok." Jim shifted from one foot to the other. "I'm going to... leave you two alone."

McCoy didn't say anything as Jim shuffled to the door.

"Bones." McCoy made sure to keep calm when Jim turned around at the door. "Get some rest."

The words were spoken with concern and great empathy - McCoy could tell. When Jim, the, carefree man, spoke as though he was a lost child, in a quiet voice and despondent tone, McCoy knew that he was being eaten from the inside. His well-hidden sympathy was a parasite that rested from time to time only to invade without notice. And now, after more spirits that could fill the hole where Vulcan once stood were broken, Jim would be a shell controlled by everyone's grief.

"You, too," McCoy said.

Jim stepped out and McCoy turned his attention back to Spock.

He whined, tossing his head to the side and began struggling in the blankets.

"Don't worry, darlin'. I'm right here with you."

McCoy layed next to him as gently as he could, face to face with Spock. He wrapped his arm around the lump of blankets and brought his hand the back of Spock's neck. The priest bowed his head toward McCoy.

There was another whine.

McCoy knew there would be no rest for anyone. 

* * *

  _“So you were irritating for visiting your parents last night?” McCoy asked, leaning back in his chair._

_Spock shook his head. “My mother was attempting to convince me to stay there for the night. She said that it had been too long since I had last been home. I informed her of my recent duties here. She did not seem pleased with my response.”_

_“I can see why she was upset.”_

_“Please explain.”_

_“You’re her son and you didn’t see her for - what? 8 years? - Because you were training to be a priest. And then you live in a remote village and barely visit home. She misses you.”_

_Spock looked to his journal; old fashioned pen and paper. McCoy was told he was a technophobe but he was nothing compared to the priests who had only just begun using computers for their latest medical research. And it was only because Starfleet brought them and they were “tolerating them for the time being”. Ridiculous_

_“I visit every other week,” Spock said._

_“Go visit more! You’re her son, she loves seeing you.”_

_“My duties -”_

_“There are other priests, Spock. They can take over your work while you visit your parents. Hell, I could even do something.”_

_“You are not a priest. You do not have the training.”_

_“Fine. I won’t help. Just go see your parents more often.”_

_Spock made a note in his journal. “Only if you accompany me.”_

_“What?”_

_“Doctor, it has been three weeks and four days since you first asked me on a ‘date’ -”_

_“You really need to stop putting quotes around everything you say. Just use human slang.”_

_“And my mother was overjoyed to hear.”_

_“Aw… you told your mama about me?”_

_“Please stop interrupting. As I was saying, my mother was more than pleased and insisted on meeting you two weeks ago. I declined. However, we have spent 96% of the previous 25 nights together. There was nothing making us do so but our mutual fondness for one another.”_

_McCoy snorted and opened his mouth before closing it after Spock’s gaze turned stern._

_“I believe it is now an ideal time to meet my parents - or at the least, my mother. You do not need to worry as I hear you humans do when meeting the parents of the one you are courting. She knows about you in great detail and has stated her illogical approval. I ask for one evening.”_

_McCoy smirked. “You tell your mama all about me.”_

_“Stay on the subject.”_

_“Of course I’ll meet your parents, Spock.”_

_Spock nodded. McCoy could see the twinkle in his eye. “I appreciate your agreement. I am positive you and my mother will find many topics of conversation through the visit. My only request is that you avoid one topic in particular.”_

_“What’s that?”_

_“Me.”_

_McCoy’s eyes lit up. “Nope, sorry. I bet she has dozens of stories about you as kid, running around playing and being human.”_

_McCoy wanted to lean over and kiss the scowl on Spock’s face. He wanted to smirk devilishly while doing it and pull away only to see the scowl deepen._

_But Spock had a thing about affection. Any type at any time._

_McCoy understood that vulcans did not touch a lot and that Spock was a priest, vowed to celibacy. It didn’t make things any easier, though._

_“She does not,” the priest stated firmly. “It would be futile to ask her.”_

_Spock brushed a lock of hair behind his ear as he looked back down to his journal. His thin fingers lingered on the black silk. A beautiful pointed ear and a glimpse of a pale cheek was revealed to McCoy in the greatest intimacy they had ever had._

_Why did he have to fall in with a vulcan?_

* * *

 Spock woke in a painful daze.

His head ached, his mind throbbed. All the bonds were gone. The jagged edges left tore at him and left him in pathetic shreds.

Leonard laid his hands over him, pressed him close to him. It was a relief that came in waves. His love came strong, only to be overpowered by the pain seconds later, and then come back with a vengeance.

He groaned.

McCoy’s hands were in his hair.

“It’s alright, darlin’.”

How could he keep lying?

“I’m right here.” More hands in his hair. Fingers on his cheek. “Do you need anything?”

Spock fought for his words. “I-Chaya…”

The hands stopped.

“I need…” Spock took a moment to find his thoughts and direct them through his mouth. “Pet him.”

McCoy ran his thumb over his cheek.

“He’s not here right now. That mangy thing needed a bath.”

“Not mangy…”

McCoy kissed his forehead and pulled him closer. A burst of love in his head.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

Spock slipped into escape.

~*~

He woke with a dying scream and a burning throat.

Images of Vulcan falling from under him faded.

McCoy was straddling him, pinning him down and squeezing his knees into Spock’s sides.

“Thank god,” he breathed when Spock opened his eyes.

McCoy climbed off of him and slid out of bed. Spock felt lost, floating in his feverish delirium. The bedclothes felt constricting and heavy. If only he could push them away. If only Leonard would come back.

“You need to take a few sips.”

McCoy put a straw in his lips and Spock obediently swallowed. It felt nice on his raw throat.

“There you go. Very good, darlin’.”

Why was Spock being treated like a pet? A sehlat being housebroken. He remembered his mother talking to I-Chaya that way. She petted his big head and fed him treats.

Spock almost smiled. He would have to find his mother later and she would bring I-Chaya up to him. She would sit with him and ease the pain and...

...and…

Spock let out a wail.

McCoy grabbed him and pulled him up into his arms.

The pain returned. It blinded him and deafened him but left him conscious still to feel the agony rip him apart.

“They’re gone,” he sobbed. “They’re gone. He's gone.”

McCoy held him tighter, rocking him back and forth.

It did nothing to make it all stop.

Spock screamed as loud as he could as though it would stop his mind from rampaging within him. He was on fire. His body was rejecting itself and his katra, shattered already, struggled for freedom; to be reunited with his family and his people.

He continued to scream.

McCoy continued to hold him.

When he felt his body about to give up, a short sting hit his neck and hissed.

He was brought into escape

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet whoo!!

"Easy, darlin'," McCoy whispered, sitting Spock up.

Spock's body convulsed from retching. His hands spasmed as he tried raising them to his mouth.

"You’re alright," McCoy said, reaching down and grabbing the bin at the side of the bed he had set there only the day before, when he moved Spock into the room. "I got you."

McCoy held Spock's hair back and kept him steady in his arms. Spock squeezed his eyes shut as he bent over the bin and hung limply in the doctor's tight hold.

"Lights 20%," McCoy ordered.

The dim lights allowed McCoy to watch Spock hunch forward and spit up bright yellow bile. He shushed Spock, rubbing his arms as well as he could while holding back hair and keeping Spock upright.

Spock whimpered and curled into McCoy's warm chest. His face was ashen but a green flush, harsher than it had been that morning, spread across his cheeks. McCoy pressed his hand to his forehead, sighing at the warmth that radiated off of him.

"Your fever is up," he sighed.

McCoy put the bin back on the floor and slid out from behind Spock, laying him back down on the pillows.

"I'll be right back, darlin'."

Spock whined and reached out for McCoy, weakly holding out his arms for only a second before dropping them back to his side and whining again.

"Don't go," he said, his voice hoarse and pleading.

"I'm only going to be a minute," McCoy said. He ran a hand over Spock's head. "I promise I'll be back."

Spock only stared at McCoy with teary eyes. McCoy sighed again.

"I promise," he said, tapping on Spock's wrist.

Spock reluctantly nodded. McCoy smiled and quickly crossed the space between the bed and bathroom.

He rummaged through his med bag that laid on the sink. He mumbled to himself, reciting medications and dosages.

"Damn priest... Has to go and be part of an outbreak with no damn cure."

* * *

_McCoy tried not to smile as he walked through the small village of the priests. They all gave him questionable looks as he passed by them, grinning like an idiot._

_It wasn't everyday that Spock actually invited him to his little home -- even if it was just for a minute or two. Through the weeks that they had been -- as McCoy officially was allowed to qualify it -- "dating", he had never once been to Spock's home. The village was small and he had been passed it every once in a while, even going there to walk Spock to work, but he had never been in it._

_Every house was more of a hut. They were made out of a beige clay and squarish with only enough room for a bathroom and a bedroom with a kitchenette. They resembled terran apartments for the most part. Not more than one person could live in one. The priests embraced a simple life of no technology and occasional luxury - which was typically a new robe (that they had to make themselves) or buying more than one book at one time that had nothing to do with their priestly duties. It was a weird idea of luxury but McCoy found it admirable._

_It also made him feel a little fuzzy to know that he was Spock’s luxury. Priests were celibate and it was rare to see one in a relationship. They did not get close to people outside of the other priests and Spock, more than anyone, kept his distance from everyone. Knowing that he was the only exception to Spock's little social rules... McCoy beamed like Jim Kirk._

_"Good evening," McCoy greeted when Spock answered the door._

_Spock wordlessly led McCoy in the hut._

_A strong fog of incense mixed with herbs hit McCoy's nose like a punch to the face. He sniffled at the scents but tried remaining polite._

_"I apologize if the smell offends you," Spock said. "Humans are not accustomed to Vulcan meditation customs. The incense can be overpowering to the human senses."_

_"It's fine," McCoy coughed out._

_Spock grabbed his satchel off the bed and turned to him. "My house is only like this after I meditate. Next time you are here, I will take all precautions."_

_McCoy smirked. "Next time?"_

_"Leonard --"_

_"There's going to be a next time?" McCoy threw his arm around Spock's shoulders, pulling the priest's head to his chest. “Can I stay a little longer when that happens?”_

_"Please control yourself," Spock said, pushing away from McCoy. "You are being indecent."_

_McCoy laughed. "I'm sorry."_

_Spock fixed his hair, readjusting the ornaments that were tugged out of place by McCoy. "We should leave," he said._

_McCoy opened the door, holding it until Spock walked out and then, long enough to admire Spock placing his satchel over his shoulder and lifting his hair out from under the strap. His hands performed the simple act with such poise._

_"So what are your parents like?" McCoy asked, catching up to Spock._

_"I have told you many times."_

_McCoy wanted to reach out and grab Spock's hand as they walked out of the village. The tiny thing, so pale and precious to him, that loosely held the strap on his bag seemed to beg for his large, calloused hand entwining with it._

_"Tell me again."_

_Spock dropped his hand to his side with a sigh. "If you insist."_

_McCoy didn't listen to the upteenth description of Spock's kind, selfless mother or his stoic, intimidating father. As Spock spoke, McCoy focused on his hand, swaying with the rest of his body. When they were out of the village and there was no one around to see, he grazed his fingers over Spock's. The priest stiffened but said nothing._

_When Spock finished talking, McCoy felt soft fingers brush against his - lasting longer than it could have if it were an accident._

* * *

"That wasn't too long, was it?" he asked.

McCoy hurried back to Spock's side, balancing an arrangement of items. He pressed a hypo to his neck and lifted a glass of water to his lips.

"Try a few sips."

Spock barely allowed any water in his mouth. He pressed his lips into a thin line until McCoy pulled the glass away. The same routine had happened on Vulcan, while Spock was not as ill but still too nauseous and stubborn to drink anything McCoy presented him. It was a wonder how he didn't get completely dehydrated.

McCoy put the glass on the nightstand and reached for his tricorder.

Spock grabbed his hand, holding tightly as McCoy pulled the sheets away from his shoulders. He whined but remained still.

"I wish you were feeling better, darlin'."

McCoy waved his tricorder over him, struggling to see the readings with only one hand. He shook his head as the scanner reported a higher temperature, blood pressure, and respiration.

"Can you stop getting worse? You're worrying me." McCoy tried smiling as he said this but Spock only stared at him with drooping eyelids covering glassy eyes.

Spock fell asleep quickly and didn't even react to the cold cloth McCoy laid over his forehead.

McCoy watched the small body with pasty skin, sunken eyes, tense and trembling under the thin blankets from both pain and fever; he listened to the raspy breath coming from airways that were hopefully not swelling already as a sign of late stages of the illness.

McCoy held Spock's hand a little tighter and recalled the little information he knew about the preists' Goddess.

"She won't let you go," he said. "She wouldn't let her child die."

McCoy closed his eyes, remembering the feel of the planet falling from beneath his feet as though it happened only seconds ago, and felt his chest tighten at his pathetic lie.

* * *

_Sarek had been less abrasive than McCoy had imagined. He was not as welcoming to McCoy or warm to his son as McCoy would had liked but the family saw nothing wrong with the lack of binding between father and son. McCoy assumed they were a typical Vulcan family in that respect but he still felt the need to sit a little closer to Spock at dinner and show a little more affection to make up for his father, who left almost immediately after the meal._

_Amanda had been everything Spock had described and more. She was a very well-spoken woman and openly showed how much she cared for her son and his new (and first) boyfriend. McCoy had immediately gotten along, asking her for stories from Spock's childhood._

_"Who's I-Chaya?" McCoy had asked when Amanda explained his childhood vices after dinner._

_"He is my sehlat," Spock answered._

_"And a sehlat is?"_

_Amanda thought for a second. "Well, they're like teddy bears. Only bigger and fatter."_

_McCoy turned to Spock with a stupid grin on his face._

_"They also have six inch fangs andare, I believe, roughly the size of a terran grizzly bear," Spock added, getting as close to a glare as he could. "You have seen I-Chaya before in the village."_

_"Oh... That mangy thing that roams around. I didn't know that thing had a home."_

_Spock now fully glared at McCoy. "Indeed he does have a home."_

_"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."_

_"He provides company to the priests and some patients. He is very faithful to me."_

_"Never said he wasn't," McCoy said, smiling easily._

_Spock relaxed and composed himself._

_"Forgive me. I regret to say that I am particularly defensive of I-Chaya."_

_"They used to get in all sorts of trouble when Spock was little," Amanda said. Spock instantly looked annoyed again. "Well, Spock would be the one that was a little too curious. I-Chaya was a nervous wreck until Spock was four and he learned the difference between doing right and having a sehlat catch you from tumbling down ruins on the forge."_

_"You told me Vulcan children were always safe on the forge," McCoy said._

_"I always was safe," Spock retorted. "Curiosity is not unusual in young children."_

_The evening continued in good humor. Amanda and McCoy laughed and shared stories about Spock, as the priest struggled to appear controlled and defend himself. They reassured Spock that their teasing was the product of their caring so much for him._

_Amanda had cupped Spock’s face in her hands and thanked him for allowing her to embarrass him. Spock nodded and pulled her hands away, holding on to them with reluctance to let them go. McCoy smiled at him and patted his arm as a way of showing that his feelings agreed with Amanda’s and that he truly cared about Spock, and more._

_“Dr. McCoy,” Amanda asked, ready to change the subject. “Why did you decide to come here? To help the priests’ with their epidemic?”_

_“To be honest, ma’am, I didn’t exactly volunteer. Starfleet had promised relief and assigned doctors and nurses to come here. I could have gotten out of it, though, and taken a tour around space but I prefer to have my feet on the ground. Besides, I wasn’t going to refuse to help a village of priests that don’t have any technology and limited medical equipment. I’m no saint but I knew they needed as much help as they could get.”_

_Spock straightened and face McCoy as though he was accepting a challenge. “May I remind you that we choose a simple life and do not need as much assistance as Starfleet has decided,” he said. “There is a common belief among both humans and vulcans that any person who lives without luxury also lives without bare necessities. We have the medical expertise to have treated patients for generations previously and the proper equipment to care for the sick. We are not in need for anything but assistance in research and care-taking. There are simply not enough of us and Vulcan healers are too concerned about keeping the disease out of ShiKahr to work on a cure. Your sympathy towards our lifestyles are not appreciated.”_

_McCoy smirked and shrugged. “I rest my case,” he said. “Sometimes we tend to think of ourselves as saviors when we’re only guest in your home.”_

_“Well, I think it was very nice of the Federation to pull Starfleet doctors into this,” Amanda said. “The healers in the city are doing nothing. They say it’s not their priority to treat the ones outside ShiKahr and yet they are the ones who have recommended the ill go out of Shikahr to see the priests. That’s how this whole mess started.”_

_“Wait. Vulcan healers are sending patients out of the city?” McCoy asked._

_“They are being sent to us now to contain the illness, but it has always been a custom to see the priests when healers are incapable of treating the ill,” Spock said. “It is truly an act of desperation as most vulcans do not believe in our Goddess but they trust our natural remedies along with modern medicine.” Spock looked down to his lap and dropped his voice. “The priests have been referred to as miracle workers but as of now… the title is inappropriate.”_

_McCoy’s chest tightened and he felt the need to reach out and hug Spock but he did not move. He was not sure if he even could if he begged his muscles to move against the reason of his mind._

_Amanda lowered her head and clutched her hands together in her lap. She closed her eyes in what appeared to be a silent prayer._

_Silence had never been so deafening._

* * *

Jim laid awake in his bed, waiting for his alarm to go off. He only had a few more hours until he had to report to shift and once again take the Captain’s chair while Pike laid in sickbay. Since he had become an officer, Jim had dreamed of the day he would have command of his own crew but he never wanted it like this. Never had he wanted temporary command because his captain -- the man who had become almost a father to him -- was recovering from being tortured, had nerve-damage, and had lost movement in his legs, perhaps permanently.

Jim’s throat swelled at the thought of Pike laying in a bed, trying to move his legs, trying to swing them over the edge of the bed, but having no luck. The man was stubborn and not even near-death was going to stop him from getting around.

Jim closed his eyes at the word _near-death_ as it bounced around in his head.

His quarters were dark and he could faintly hear crew bustling around outside. Engineering had worked night and day to get the engines to handle a higher warp speed but there had been no improvement yet. The best way to repair the ship was to get it back to Earth and have it repaired there by crews of engineers. But they were weeks away from home and until then, or until a rescue ship came out to help them, they were limping their way through the galaxy at less than half of their full potential speed.

Jim could feel the vibrations of the engine under him and took a little comfort in knowing they were getting somewhere, no matter how slow. Scotty was getting them home.

On his nightstand, Jim’s communicator chirped. He grabbed it and flipped it open.

“Kirk here.”

“ _Jim!_ ”

“Bones? What’s wrong?” Jim sat up, looking around for his boots.

“ _I need to help getting Spock down to sickbay_.”

McCoy’s voice sounded panicked and Jim had never heard him sound so helpless. He was scared.

“Ok… hold on. Lights 90% Ok. Bones, what do you need me to do?”

“ _Get down here as fast as you can_.”

“Ok. Kirk out.”

A thousands thoughts ran around in Jim’s mind at once. He grabbed his shoes and had trouble telling which went on what foot as he wondered what McCoy meant by “Spock’s worse”. Obviously, Spock had gotten sicker through the night. How, was what Jim wondered. Did his fever go up? Did he get dehydrated? Was he convulsing? Did his vitals get too out of sorts?

Jim rushed from his room, throwing a shirt on over his head as he ran down the corridor.

The door to McCoy’s quarters was open and Jim went in after a quick knock.

The room was sweltering and McCoy was sitting Spock up against his chest, wiping his face with a wet cloth and whispering to him. The priest looked much worse than the last time Jim saw him. He was pale, shaking, and took wheezing breaths, sounding and looking like death warmed over.

“He needs a breathing treatment and fluids,” McCoy said. “His airways are swelling and this damn fever is taking everything out of him.”

“What do you need me to do?” Jim asked, stepping forward.

“Get all of my crap in the bathroom.”

Jim hurried to grab as many hypos as he could from the bathroom counter and then the ones that were scattered on the floor of the bedroom. McCoy went through them, impatiently throwing the wrongs ones back on the floor before finding what he was looking for.

“Spock?” he whispered, preparing the dosage. “This is going to make you feel tired. If you need to sleep, you go ahead and do that, ok?”

Spock gave no impression of hearing anything McCoy said. When the hypo was pressed into his neck, his eyes drifted close.

“It’ll make the trip to sickbay easier,” McCoy told Jim, scooping Spock into his arms. “I commed sickbay already and their meeting us there half-way. Less time that way.”

Jim followed McCoy out of the room and into the lift. Spock laid like a ragdoll in McCoy’s arms. In better light, Jim could see how sick he really was. He wanted to look away but the sharp cheekbones covered in dark green and painfully chapped lips held his attention. Wheezes filled the lift.

Outside of the lift, a gurney waited and Bones placed Spock down and the med team immediately rushed to the other end of the hall. A nurse stopped Jim from stepping past the office area with Spock and McCoy.

“You’re going to have to wait out here, sir,” she said.

Jim sighed in frustration. When she left, he sat down at McCoy’s desk, counting the minutes until his shift

* * *

_The desert was cold as the suns dipped below the horizon. McCoy tugged his jacket close to his torso, hoping they were actually getting closer to the village, rather than wandering through the desert with no final destination. He was eager to strip out of his sandy uniform, lay on his thin cot, and sleep for eight hours. Fatigue begged him to shut his eyes and his legs screamed at him to_   
_let him lay down right there and yet, McCoy had a smile he could not wipe from his face._   
  
_"I like your mom," he said._   
  
_If McCoy wasn't watching Spock so closely, he would have missed out on the slight smile that graced Spock's face._   
  
_"She is fond of you as well," he said._   
  
_"You know my ex-wife -- I never got along with her parents. They were sticks in the mud and insisted on giving me the cold shoulder whenever we would have dinner with them. I've never met someone so friendly as your mother, though."_   
  
_"Perhaps I say this because she is one of the few humans I have met, but my mother is quite unique."_   
  
_"It makes me a little homesick. Earth is filled with sweet women like that. There's no one else like that here. All of you are stiff and don't even say 'good morning'."_   
  
_"On the contrary, doctor, I used that phrase this morning."_   
  
_"Only because you've been well-trained by your mother."_   
  
_Mccoy nudged Spock, bringing a genuine smile to his face. McCoy thought his heart would stop beating right then._   
  
_"Perhaps," Spock agreed, his voice low and barely heard._   
  
_They walked in silence for a few moments more. McCoy looked up to the sky, to the fading light blue and the stars that shined against the appearing black. The stars looked different on earth. There were not so many clusters and tight constellations._   
  
_"Beautiful tonight," he said._   
  
_Spock tilted his head up. McCoy admired his profile made of soft curves and dark features._   
  
_"The sky looks no different than any other night," Spock said._   
  
_"They're always beautiful," McCoy said, still fixated on Spock._   
  
_Spock looked to him, his puzzled look quickly dropping to one so painfully close to a human realizing the love harvested in another person. He opened his mouth but said nothing. McCoy smiled._   
  
_Spock faced forward again, slipping his bottom lip in between his teeth._   
  
_He was so beautiful. The way he walked with every ounce of grace in the universe in each step, his hair sliding over his shoulders and his robes flowing around his body; it all took McCoy's breath away. One being in the whole of the galaxy was there in front of him and he could hardly believe the infinite possibilities that he could have with that exact, perfect combination of stardust and light._   
  
_McCoy looked down and, with a deep breath and a lifetime's worth of reluctance, grabbed Spock's hand._   
  
_There was no protest. Only thin fingers sliding in between his and a spark -- maybe from Spock's telepathy or maybe from McCoy's own romantic imagination -- that lit up his hand and ignited his body._   
  
_McCoy was saddened to see the lights of the village, peaking up from the horizon._


End file.
